


What Never Changes

by PenorQuill



Category: Persuasion - Jane Austen, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenorQuill/pseuds/PenorQuill
Summary: Anne Elliot had never gotten over him. Would never get over him: Thorin.Twelve years prior she had broken off her engagement with him rather than face social ruin. That had been the worst mistake of her life. Thorin was king of a displaced people, which made him not good enough for the granddaughter of the Thain. At the time Mrs. Russel and her grandfather's arguments had made sense.Now Anne knew it was the worst mistake of her life.When Dwarrow begin to arrive at her house, Anne welcomes them. They unsurface bittersweet memories and make Anne ask all the questions she's tried to suppress for years. What might have happened if she had married Thorin? Where was he now?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've messed with ages, timeline, and pretty much everything. This isn't a particularly well thought out story, but it wouldn't leave my head until it was out in the world. I've basically stuck Anne into Bilbo's place and given her and Thorin memories of a past romance. And I've changed characters a bit. I'll probably write them closer to how I always wanted them to be.  
> I hope you're able to enjoy in spite of my lack of planning or thought.

Anne loved to walk through Hobbiton and the surrounding areas. She loved being able to think without interruption. In fact, she always had the clearest mind when her breathing grew heavy and her muscles began to ache.

  
There were three days of the year that Anne took the longest walks. On these days there were specific locations that Anne visited, often stopping for long periods of time at each to reminisce. The three days were: The anniversary of her mother's death, the anniversary of the day she broke her engagement to the only person she would ever love, and the anniversary of the day she reached her majority and began living on her own.

  
This day was the last. Nine years ago Anne had turned 33 (the age of majority for Hobbits). She had left the Great Smial, her grandfather's home, on that day. She visited often, not wanting to desert her family or break ties with them completely, but she treasured her independence.

  
Anne had regretted the influence her family had over her many times, but none so much as 12 years ago when they had pressured her to break off her engagement. Her family had threatened her with social ruin. At the time she couldn't stand the thought of the isolation she would live in. Anne had considered social ruin to be the most painful thing she could possibly endure. She hadn't realized what a broken heart would feel like.

  
In the end, Anne did live in isolation to an extent. Her friend Mrs. Russell visited her nearly every week, and she dined in the the Great Smial often. However, Anne never had anyone else in her house for dinner, or even tea. In the marketplace or on her walks she would encounter friends from her childhood, and always greeted them kindly and asked after their lives. The problem was that no one in Hobbiton, maybe in the entire shire, understood discontent like Anne did. They had homes and food, so they were content. Anne also had these, but she wasn't content. She tried to be. She was always doing charitable work; and often Anne would spend the week in her sister Mary's house just outside of Hobbiton nursing her through whatever illness she fancied she had this week. But nothing brought her contentment. She studied languages and cultures, but that only made her want to see the world for herself. She became an expert at sewing and cooking, even drawing envy from most of the women in Hobbiton, but that was unfulfilling. Anne cared for her own garden and had the most thriving plants for miles; she also learned to use her herbs for healing, but there were some things that couldn't be fixed with herbs. The closest Anne ever came to being content was when she took very long walks. Being in Nature, worn out, hair falling free and wild. At those times Anne thought she might be able to be content. But as soon as she returned home, her longing for more returned.

  
As it was the anniversary of the day Anne reached her majority she was out on a very long walk. On this day she always woke up early and filled a picnic basket. She would then walk through the quiet streets of Hobbiton at dawn. She would walk to the Brandywine river, sit along an isolated portion of the bank, and eat her picnic. Then she would swim until her teeth began to chatter. After that she would visit the meadow on the opposite bank and pick flowers to fill her basket with. Anne would then visit the Great Smial and give a bouquet to her grandfather. She would walk back to Hobbiton and visit Mrs. Russell with a bouquet. Then Anne would visit Mary with a bouquet, and she would stay to eat dinner with Mary and Charles. At dusk, Anne would walk home and put any leftover flowers in a vase on her dining table. Then Anne would walk out into her back garden and watch the stars until dawn.

  
Anne had just left Charles and Mary in the doorway of their home, two sons tangled between their legs. She let her basket hang loosely from her hand as she walked. A few times she stopped to watch the changing colors of the horizon as the sun set, and dig her toes into the sandy path. It was dark by the time Anne reached her own hole. She slowly made her way up the steps, breathing slowly. Tonight, she almost felt at peace. Anne turned to look over Hobbiton, candles lighting up many windows as night closed in, then turned and went inside. She set her basket on her table and entered her kitchen quickly grabbing the vase she always used on this day. She filled it with water and arranged her flowers in it. Anne set it in the center of her table and stepped back with a small sigh. Almost at peace; almost content.

  
After a moment of looking at her bouquet Anne turned and made her way to her bedroom. Once there she quickly grabbed the quilt from her bed and dragged it out her back door and up onto the roof of her home. She spread it out and lay down, looking up at the stars. Her mind was quiet today. Many days Anne couldn't keep up with the thoughts running through her head, but today there were none.

  
She began to count the stars.


	2. Good Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of the backstory! I'm super exited for this story to unfold. I haven't decided if the overall plot will be more The Hobbit or Persuasion yet.  
> I've also figured out some ages.  
> Anne is 42. She was 30 when she met Thorin. Hobbits live to 110-120 normally.  
> Thorin is 70. He was 58 when he met Anne. Dwarrow live to 200 normally.

"Good Morning!"

Anne gasped awake into a sitting position, heart racing. She opened her eyes and squinted up to find the person who had woken her.

"Gandalf," Anne identified him and lay back down. Her breathing and heart rate returning to normal. "Good morning," she mumbled back at him.

"What do you mean?" Gandalf asked, leaning on his staff. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning or that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?"

Anne sat up again, but remained quiet. She knew Gandalf of course, but she had not seen him in many years. Anne had no idea what to say in response to such a person or such a question.

"Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel particularly good on this morning," Gandalf continued when she did not respond. "Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

"A-all of them at once...I suppose," Anne managed to stutter out. Gandalf gave a bit of a pleased lean to his staff. Anne scrambled up and gathered her quilt. "Can I help you?"

Gandalf's eyes turned a bit dark. "That remains to be seen," he said mysteriously. "You've changed, Anne Elliot, and not entirely for the better."

"Not entirely for the better? Whatever do you mean, Gandalf? It has been twelve years since I saw you. Of course I've changed. I've reached my majority, I live on my own. What did you expect after all this time?"

"I expected-" Gandalf paused and gave his staff a thoughtful lean. "I think you could use an adventure."

"Really?" Anne looked up at the old man in astonishment. "I'm fine. Alright? You can go prescribe an unpleasant adventure to someone else if you don't mind. Maybe you can find someone more willing in Bree?" With that Anne pushed past Gandalf and into her house.

Well...she attempted to. She was carrying a massive quilt that she hadn't bothered to fold so she stumbled a bit on the way. Once inside, however, Anne firmly closed her door and slid the bolt for good measure. She leaned against it with a sigh. "What are you doing here, Gandalf?" She whispered before startling. Anne dropped the quilt and rushed through the corridors of Bag End to the front door, ensuring it was closed and bolted as well.

Twelve years ago Gandalf had come to the Shire with his friend, Thorin. Gandalf had ensured the hobbits allowed Thorin to work as their blacksmith and introduced him to Anne. She remembered that first meeting well.

_Anne hummed absently as she walked up the lane toward the Great Smial. Her hands were full of flowers that she had picked from along the path as she wandered the woods nearby. She had woven a few into her hair pulling half of it back into a loose braid. Her tan face turned up to look at the puffy clouds floating through the sky. It was a beautiful day. Anne spun in a few circles, arms spread out, flowers scattering when she reached the gate of the Great Smial. She laughed softly and opened the gate. As she closed it behind her Gandalf exited the front door of the Smial with a dwarf next to him._

_Anne stopped in the path when her eyes met those of the dwarf. His eyes were blue, like ice, but there was fire in them. His features were strong and his beard and hair dark. He stepped outside and the late afternoon light made him appear to have a golden aura._

_Anne tore her eyes away from him before she could embarrass herself and looked to Gandalf.  
_

_"Hello, Anne," Gandalf greeted her. "This is my friend Thorin. We've just spoken with your grandfather. Thorin will be working here as a blacksmith for the foreseeable future."_

_"Ahhh," was all Anne said. She didn't know what to say. 'I'm so glad' would sound eager, but 'is that so' would sound disinterested._

_"He'll be staying in the smithy, but I hope you'll make him feel welcome when he visits the Great Smial," Gandalf continued._

_"Of course," Anne agreed._

_"No need to inconvenience yourself," the dwarf spoke finally. Anne's eyes followed the voice and were caught by his._

_"'tis  no inconvenience," she said breathlessly. "You are most welcome, of course. And if you would like someone to show you around the area, I know it well."_

_"I think I may take you up on that," Thorin replied. His eyes held hers a moment more before turning to Gandalf. "I thank you for your assistance, but I must take my leave of you now."_

_"Yes," Gandalf had said. "Yes, I believe you must. Goodbye for now, Thorin."_

_Thorin nodded to Anne as he passed her and went out the gate._

_Anne turned her eyes back to Gandalf._

_"My dear, Anne," he said gently, "you must keep your word and show him the Shire. You must make him feel at home."  
_

_"I will."_

_"Good." The wizard nodded to her and left in the opposite direction of where Thorin had gone._

_Anne stood in the path a moment longer, wondering where the two had come from and what had brought them here._

If only she had known then what she knew now. Gandalf meddled. He pushed people together and tried to twist fate, but he did not always succeed. And when he did not, the consequences were felt by others. Anne did not blame Gandalf entirely, and she certainly was not angry with him. He was gentle and kind. He just did without thinking. As most people do. If his actions seemed to have greater consequences than the average persons that was no fault of his own. It was the Valar's fault for giving such powers to one so unaware of himself.

Twelve years ago Gandalf had tried to bring joy into Anne's life. He probably thought she and Thorin would be good for each other. In the end, he brought them both heartache. At least, Anne assumed Thorin had experienced heartache. The anger he had felt towards her seemed to signify heartache. 


	3. Memories Part One

After locking Gandalf out Anne stood in the entryway to Bag End for some time. Her mind was swirling with thoughts, but she couldn't seem to catch any of them long enough to identify what they were. She felt...turmoil.

It had been a long time since Anne had felt this way. Mostly because she suppressed her memories for most of the year.

One day.

One day a year was all she allowed herself to remember. To feel. To mourn.

Every year on the Anniversary of the day she broke off her engagement to Thorin. She would wander and allow herself to reconsider all the advice her family and Mrs. Russell had given her. She would allow herself to remember each moment with Thorin. And then she would remember the hard look that entered his eyes when she rejected him. The way his expression morphed into something ugly. Thorin had been open with her. He had been free, lighthearted. But in that moment he was cold and removed.

Anne walked slowly through the rooms in her house. She looked around, but she didn't see. Finally she made her way to a bedroom in the back of the smial. It was an area she rarely entered. This room held all of her mother's belongings. And it held everything that reminded Anne of Thorin.

She opened the door slowly, taking a steadying breath before looking inside. There was a bed in the center, under a large round window. To the right was a wardrobe and vanity. Her mother's combs still laid out. Her clothes still in the wardrobe. To the left of the bed was a large trunk and a few crates.

Anne made her way to the trunk. She sank down onto the dusty floor in front of the trunk and gently ran her hands over the beautiful steel clasps. Thorin had made this trunk for Anne as a courtship gift.

_"Anne!" Elizabeth called. "Anne!"_

_Anne was in the garden. Not gardening. Just sitting and observing the flowers blowing in the breeze. The birds hopping from branch to branch in the trees. Anne dug her bare toes into the soft grass and sighed._

_"Anne!" Elizabeth called again, running into the garden. "There you are!"_

_Anne smiled up at her sister. "Yes, here I am."_

_"Thorin is here," Elizabeth informed. "He brought something very large with him. It's covered in a cloth and he says it's for you."_

_"Really? What does it look like?" Anne didn't know what to think of all the gifts Thorin had been bringing her. A necklace and bracelet with the Durin crest, then combs for her hair with a design matching Bag End (how he had learned of her mother's home, Anne did not know), and now something extremely large. She loved each one of course, and was amazed at what Thorin was able to make with his hands. However, she had not given him anything. She didn't know what she could give him._

_"I haven't the slightest. Just come and find out." Elizabeth was bouncing slightly on her feet and behind her cool eyes was excitement. Not much happened in the Great Smial these days, so anything was exciting._

_Anne rose from among the flowers and brushed her skirt off gently. Then she followed her sister inside. As they made their way through the winding halls of the Great Smial Anne smoothed her hair. The closer they came to the parlor the more excited Anne became. No matter how much time she spent with Thorin she felt a rush each time his eyes met hers. Her heart would stop beating when he spoke. Every time he asked Anne a question her palms would sweat a little bit. He was so perfect and wonderful. He was a King. And Anne was just...Anne._

_They reached the parlor and Anne stepped into the doorway. Her grandfather and Thorin stood in the center of the room together, looking at a very large object on the floor and talking. The massive item was covered in a blue sheet._

_Anne stood a moment in the doorway watching Thorin. The light through the window making deep shadows on his face._

_He turned, as if sensing her gaze. "Hello, Anne."_

_Anne's heart melted a little at his voice. His beautiful eyes met hers gently._

_"Hello," Anne smiled at him in greeting. Thorin gave a small smile of his own._

_"Come here."_

_"Hello, grandfather," Anne said as she stepped forward. She glanced over her shoulder to see Elizabeth hovering just around the corner, biting her lip in curiosity._

_Thorin held his hand out and Anne stared at it for a moment before placing her hand in his. His calloused hand held her soft one gently and he tugged her toward him._

_"This is for you," he said softly when she was as close as propriety would allow him to pull her._

_Anne looked up into the depths of his eyes. Thorin had the most vulnerable look in his eyes, but his entire being exuded confidence with every breath._

_She turned to the object on the floor and Thorin released her hand to grab the sheet covering it. He made eye contact with Anne once more before pulling back the sheet to reveal a trunk. It was made of a dark wood, maybe mahogany. There were steel clasps and binding. The metal had been engraved with swirling patterns that resembled the Durin crest. It was gorgeous._

_"Anne?" Thorin said softly._

_"It's beautiful," she replied just as softly. Then she moved her gaze from the trunk to his. "I love it!" She grinned and he smiled back._

_"I'm glad."_

I'm glad.

Such simple words.

But they had both been glad those days.

Anne had not been glad for a long time. She wondered if Thorin had easily moved on, or if he had spent a few years in torment like she had. 

 


	4. Memories Part 2

With a deep breath Anne pulled the trunk open. Dust flew up and swirled in the air. Inside the first thing Anne's eyes landed on was a stack of letters tied in a blue ribbon. 

She reached into the trunk and pulled them out, placing them in her lap. She ran her fingers over the handwriting. It was Thorin's. She didn't need to read the letters though. She had each word memorized. Thorin had written these letters when he left the shire on short trips, or with his gifts, or sometimes he wrote them simply because he felt like it. 

Each letter had very similar contents. Each one shared sweet words, but more importantly, Thorin's heart.

Such as the letter he wrote her the first time he left the shire. They had been courting a month. He had already given her the bracelet and necklace, combs, and trunk.

_My Darling Anne,_

_I must leave you for a time, but it will be short. I am going to my people in the Blue Mountains. I have told you that I am their King. I have told you that I must work in the Shire not only to support my family, but my people. What I have not told you is that I feel they will not follow me. I am terrified that without being among them they will give up on me. I have tried to explain as best I could that my going away is temporary; until our colony is on its feet. However, I fear they must think I am trying to get away. I have tried to explain that I am working out trade deals to provide them with food. But they are lost. They are so lost. Two Kings and two Queens died, failed them, and left them. I will not do the same. I must ensure that they understand._

_I will come back to you darling. I cannot stand to be away from you. Even as I write this, having not yet left the borders of the Shire, I feel a void without you._

_My heart is all yours for always,_

_Thorin_

Anne had wept when she read that letter. Wept for the loss Thorin's people had endured. Wept for the lack of confidence he had in himself. Though she had never had the opportunity to see Thorin with more of his people than the guard and counselor who traveled with him and also worked in different parts of the Shire nearby, Anne had no doubt that his people adored him. He had a presence that commanded attention, and a heart that deserved respect. 

There was another letter her wrote her far later that stood out in Anne's memory. This letter had broken her heart more than the first, because it had broken Thorin's heart more than the first. 

_Anne,_

_Dearest, I know not what to write. My world has fractured. I had no idea until now the hope I held._

_As you know, I traveled with Gandalf to Ered Luin to investigate rumors that my father is still alive. We found him. He has gone mad. I saw him for only a few minutes. I had climbed high into the mountains alone that day, Gandalf off on his own trail._

_I  heard the ramblings first. Smaug, gold, orcs. He seemed to be talking in circles. I called out to him, following his voice until I saw him. I cannot bear to describe his appearance, nor most of what he said. He grew agitated by the sight of me. He tried to attack me, then fled into the woods. I tried to follow, but the sun set and I lost his trail._

_I have lost hope. Even if my father were to come back to us, he will never be himself again._

_Anne, I am alone. I have no one to guide me as I lead my people. Dis and Balin will try, but they are not a father._

_I do not have any more words. I only wish you were here. Even if you did not have answers your presence would comfort me._

_I love you._

_Thorin_

Each time Thorin had opened his heart and allowed Anne to see him so fully, she had been amazed. Amazed that he could trust her so fully. Amazed that he had so much love in his heart. Amazed at the burdens he carried. And she had loved him more for carrying them. She was terrified of being the wife of a King. But she knew she could be brave for Thorin. Thorin who was always so brave for everyone else.

Anne placed the letters back in the trunk and closed the lid.

Enough memories for one morning. She was going to make some breakfast. 

And a cup of tea.


	5. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized I haven't described the time of year yet. That was a serious oversight. It's early spring.  
> Also, thanks so much to everyone leaving Kudos and comments! It means a lot to me! I honestly did not expect anyone to read this story, let alone like it. Thank you.

Anne had just sat down to her cup of tea in her front room. She was curled up in a wing back chair by the fireplace. Obviously, in the middle of spring she did not have a fire going. However, it was one of the most peaceful corners of the house. 

As she sipped her tea, Anne flipped through a book of medicinal plants. This was a book Anne had thoroughly studied a few years prior, but it was always good to refresh her memory. Mothers in Hobbiton often called on Anne with a sick child or minor injuries before calling a doctor. Even if the doctor was on his way, there was no doctor in Hobbiton, which meant that it could be hours before the doctor arrived. 

A knock sounded on her door and Anne reluctantly closed her book. She tucked it next to the arm of the chair and stood, setting her tea on the mantle. Anne smoothed her hair and straightened her skirt. With the stress of seeing Gandalf this morning and reliving memories of her time with Thorin, Anne had forgotten to change out of yesterday's dress. It would have to do though.

Anne pulled the door open to reveal Mrs. Russell. 

"Hello, Anne," Mrs. Russell smiled. She was dressed in the newest fashion with an ostentatious hat on her head. Careful curls spilled out from under the ribbons and feathers. On her arm was a basket of what smelled like freshly baked scones. 

"Hello, " Anne replied, opening the door wide and ushering her friend inside. "How are you today, Mrs. Russell?"

"I am well, Anne, thank you. But how are you? I heard that Gandalf was seen in the lane. Has he been to see you?" Anne nodded. "I'm so sorry dear. I wish I had known sooner to warn you or keep him away."

"Oh, no. He was here, and it did stir up memories, but I am fine," Anne assured. "I spent some time remembering, and now I'm having a cup of tea and reading a book. Please, come in and join me for tea." Anne led her friend to the kitchen table and poured her a cup of tea. She pulled out a plate to put the scones on and excused herself to retrieve her own cup of tea from the mantle. 

They drank their tea in silence. Mrs. Russell was often talkative, and a bit of a gossip, but she knew how to be silent with someone. Today, both Anne and Mrs. Russell were deep in thought.

"I have sometimes wondered," Mrs. Russell said, breaking the silence, "if you would have been happier-if I gave you the wrong advice-"

Anne pondered this for a moment before she said, "I do not think that would have changed anything. Being cut off from my family would have caused me much unhappiness. I am learning to be content." Mrs. Russel was referring to the advice she had given Anne about Thorin. She had advised Anne break off the engagement indefinitely, so that Thorin could get his colony on its feet and meet her family's approval. 

"You are not content," Mrs. Russell said firmly. "I know that you try, but you were not made to be simple, Anne. And life in the Shire is simple. I have always tried to do right by you, Anne; to do what your mother would have wanted. However, it is plain for all to see that you are not happy."

"Happiness is not the purpose of life," Anne replied. "I may not be happy, but I have love for my family, I have fulfilling work in healing, and I enjoy my quiet days of learning about the world."

"You may enjoy learning about the world, but you would much prefer experiencing it."

Anne nodded. "That is true. I would prefer to experience the world firsthand. I probably will someday."

"When is someday? When your sister marries? When you are nearing the end of your life? Anne, you are still in your prime. Take advantage of that now. Why wait?"

"These things must be thought out; fully considered. I do not wish to make a rash decision."

The two friends were quiet for awhile. They proceeded to talk about the weather and the town gossip until late afternoon.

"I must go home and prepare dinner," Mrs. Russell announced.

"I'll walk you out." 

They made their way to the front of the Smial quietly. 

"Thank you so much for coming," Anne said when they reached the door. "I appreciated having your company today."

"Of course. Anytime." 

"Goodbye," Anne said opening the door.

"Goodbye, dear," Mrs. Russell said with a final smile to Anne as she stepped over the threshold.  


	6. Broken Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're about to see each other again! Neither of them is ready, and I'm not either. However, I'm getting really excited! I hope your heart breaks as much as mine did feeling this with Thorin.

It was nearly dusk when Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin crested the last hill outside of Hobbiton.

"Nearly there," Dwalin grunted, hefting his pack and continuing on.

Thorin could not move. His eyes were fixed on the house that sat higher than any other in Hobbiton. Their destination, and the last place he had seen Anne Elliot. It was the day she had rejected him. 

_"Anne," Thorin had whispered, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. The night before Anne had agreed to marry him._

_S_ _he was standing just inside the gate to Bag End. This was the house her mother had grown up in and inherited from her parents. She would have lived in it with her husband if she hadn't married the son of the Thain. Instead she'd moved into the Great Smial with her husband. Anne, however, had told Thorin she wanted to live in her mother's home when they married. Of course, it wouldn't be full time; they would have to spend at least half of the year in the Blue Mountains with his people._

_Thorin wanted Anne to be happy. In all the world, that's the one thing he wanted._

_"I think it is a beautiful home, especially for raising a family," Thorin said, nuzzling Anne's neck._

_"Thorin," Anne's voice broke on his name. She turned in his arms and he saw that her eyes were red rimmed._

_"What is it, darling?" Thorin moved his hands to rest on Anne's upper arms._

_"Oh, Thorin," she choked out. "I-I've spoken with my family and-and Mrs. Russell-"_

_"Yes?" Thorin stroked his hands up and down Anne's arms to soothe her and encourage her._

_"Thorin, they say I can't marry you." As Anne finished saying this a sob burst from deep within her._

_"What?" Thorin stumbled backward as if her words were a physical blow. The world shrunk until everything was black except Anne's pain filled expression._

_"For now at least," she explained, stepping towards him. "Mrs. Russell says that when your colony is better established we could announce our engagement then, but for now...we must seperate."_

_"Anne," Thorin said, taking a deep breath to control his emotions. "Anne, this isn't what you want. Do not let others control your desicions. Do not let Mrs. Russell tell you what you want. Do you not wish to be my wife?"_

_"I do, but-" Anne sobbed and fell to her knees. "I cannot lose my family. They will reject me if I do not listen. I will be ruined socially."_

_"You'll be-" Thorin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Anne was rejecting him over the threat of social ruin._

_He stepped back. She was allowing herself to be persuaded by them. Allowing them to control her. If she truly loved him she would not be so changeable._

_"Goodbye," Thorin said curtly. He turned on his heel and marched away the sound of her sobs slowly fading away. His heart left at her feet, but he would not go back for it. He would not beg. If she did not think him good enough for her then so be it. If he was not worth fighting for, then she must not be either._

_Thorin pushed down the bile that rose in his throat. His heart was screaming at him to go back, but his pride would not let him. He was a dwarf. His honor was more important than his heart._

"Thorin," Balin's voice broke into his memories. 

Thorin blinked and turned his gaze from the spot he had last seen Anne to Balin.

"Thorin are you alright?"

"Yes," he grunted. Thorin hefted his pack and glared toward Bag End. He would not allow his feelings to dictate his actions. It would hurt to see her again, but he must be strong. This quest was far too important to turn back just to spare his heart. 

"He's not fine," Dwalin called back. He had made it a few yards down the path before turning. His face was stone; his expression gave nothing away. Thorin knew better though. Dwalin had always known Thorin better than anyone else. They had been through their first battle, first losses, first jobs together. They had shared everything. When Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin had been working in the Shire twelve years prior, Dwalin was the one Thorin had shared everything with. He had patiently listened to Thorin drone on and on about Anne. 

"I am fine," Thorin bit out. His friend was right, but Thorin needed to push on. 

Dwalin grunted back at Thorin, but turned and continued down the path. Thorin and Balin followed.

Thorin only made it two steps before he called out, "Wait!"

"Yes," Dwalin said patiently turning. 

"I think I should stay back," Thorin said. Dwallin rolled his eyes. "No, really. The sight of just the two of you will be enough shock, I think. Prepare her." Thorin spoke the last two words very softly. As much as he had tried to harden his heart against Anne, she was his first and only love. He couldn't help wanting to protect her. 

"I agree," Balin said. "You go on Dwalin. I'll follow soon after. Thorin should wait until everyone else has arrived." 

Dwalin gave a short nod and strode away. 

Thorin and Balin turned and walked away from Hobbiton. They wanted to be out of sight when Anne opened her door. 


	7. Dwarrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Anne is trapped in her head right now, let's throw a bunch of Dwarrow her way and stir up more memories!  
> I really had very little idea of where this story was going when it started. As I've written a few ideas have come into my head, but I'm still making it up as I go along. I really appreciate everyone who has commented and left Kudos! That my ill thought out story is being read and liked blows me away. Thank you sooooo much!

Anne needed to be busy. So many thoughts were rushing through her head and her emotions were all over the place, but Anne couldn't interpret any of her thoughts or feelings. 

Mrs. Russel had been gone for nearly an hour. Anne had spent that whole time pacing her foyer and trying to understand any of what she was feeling. As no progress had been made, Anne decided to be productive. She snatched the basket she kept by her front door and detoured into her study for her coin purse. Armed with these she took a deep breath and opened her front door. 

Anne walked briskly to the market and wandered the stalls in no particular order, buying anything that caught her fancy. Anyone looking at her would have said she was lost in her thoughts. Anne would have said her thoughts had lost her. Her heart was racing and she had no idea why. She knew her brain was going a million miles a minute, but it wasn't letting her in on any of the thinking. 

When Anne's basket was full of fruits, vegetables, and breads she left the market. She did not make her way directly home, choosing instead to skirt the edge of Hobbiton for a longer walk. 

Upon arriving at her gate Anne paused to check her mail, which she normally did in the morning, but it had been a very long and distracting day. There were a few letters from family, but nothing that appeared important. Anne tucked them into her basket and continued inside. As she closed her door she noticed her hands were shaking. She shook herself and attributed it to seeing Gandalf and her conversation with Mrs. Russel. Of course such emotional strain would wear on her body. 

She pushed past the weight of her body and began to cook. Anne had no idea why she was cooking. She wouldn't eat all the food she was making and it would be wasted, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. She baked mutton pies, and fried up vegetables. She set a stew on the back of her stove, simmering and spreading it's delicious aroma through the house. 

An hour later her kitchen was piled high with dishes and her table was piled high with food. She stepped back and wiped sweat from her brow. 

"Now what?" Anne asked her empty house. She decided to tidy herself up before eating an made her way in the direction of her room. Her progress halted just outside the kitchen, however, when a knock sounded on her door. Two visitors in one day. How odd. Most Hobbits were very social, but Anne received only two or three visitors in a week at most.

She changed course and headed to the door, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of her skirt and straightening her hair.

She pulled the door open with a curious expression that quickly turned into confusion. 

On her doorstep stood a dwarf.

Not just any dwarf though.

Dwalin. With his black hair, bald head, and massive frame.

She had met him once, and heard about him more.

Dwalin was Thorin's best friend. 

Anne realized that she must have been standing and staring for a long time when she met Dwalin's eyes which were full of concern and a little wary.

"Please, come in," Anne managed to get out. Her voice was barely audible and her breath was coming in short gasps. 

Anne had not expected to see Dwalin ever again, and now he was entering her house.

"Dwalin, at your service," he grunted once inside.

"Y-yes. I remember you," Anne said. She closed the door quickly, allowing her to turn her back on the massive dwarf. Why was he here? 

"Where is it?" He called from somewhere behind her.

Anne spun around, scanning frantically for the dwarf. He reentered the foyer from the corridor that led to the private family bedrooms. 

"Is it this way?" He asked, gesturing to the other corridor off of her foyer. The other two doorways led to the parlor and the study.

Anne raised her eyebrows at him.

Dwalin took that as confirmation and turned, striding down the corridor. 

"Is what that way?" Anne called after him, scrambling to catch up.

Dwalin grunted and turned halfway back toward her. "Supper." His tone said that should have been obvious. "Ahhhh," he said when he entered the dining room and saw the array of food on the table. 

"Of course," Anne said, trying to take charge of the situation. "Please, do sit down."

Dwalin had already done so, and dug into the food. Anne had no idea what to do at that point, so she sank into a chair that was in the corner right by the door. She sat and watched Dwalin eat, not sure if she was appalled or amused by his lack of table manners. 

Thorin had had impeccable manners. Being royalty it was important he made a good impression wherever he went. He had explained to her once that most dwarrow were not so well behaved and polished. She had not spent much time around any other than Thorin, so had never had the opportunity to see for herself. Until now. Now she saw clearly. If Dwalin was the rule, and Thorin the exception, it was little wonder most saw dwarrow as uncivilized. Her family was definitely among those who saw dwarrow as uncivilized. 

Anne could not see them that way. To call someone of a different race uncivilized would be to say that your culture was the absolute rule of what being civilized means. Anne was unwilling to do so. Just because her culture was familiar, and seemed more polished, did not mean that other cultures were automatically wrong. Just because they did not have the same rules of deportment did not make them monsters. 

Far from, in fact. Thorin was anything but a monster, and the way he described his people assured her that they were not monsters either. They may be messy eaters, but they had compassion and empathy. They may speak gruffly, but they protected their own and supported those who could not support themselves. Those were the people Thorin described, and to Anne, those qualities were the most important. 

At that time Anne had tried to learn everything she could about Dwarrow. She was, after all, planning to marry their King. She had begged Thorin to talk about his people and his culture for hours. He was different when he talked about them. The weight of his responsibility obviously weighing on him, but also love. Thorin cared deeply for every one of his people. He knew their personal stories, and he fought every day for their livelihood. Even though he was barely an adult among his people, he considered himself their father. Each one his personal burden and blessing. 

Anne wondered what her relationship with Dwalin would be like if she had married Thorin. Would they be close friends? Would he and Thorin have grown apart? Would she have taken Dwalin's place as Thorin's closest friend? 

Even as these thoughts ran through her head there came another knock at the door. Anne turned her head toward it, wondering who in Middle Earth it might be. Maybe it was Gandalf, come to explain why Dwalin was in her house, for there was no doubt that Gandalf was behind this.

"That'll be the door," Dwalin said, before shoving more food in his mouth. 

Anne glanced his way, then stood and made her way to the door.

She was not the least bit surprised to find Balin on the other side. She had never met Balin, but recognized him from Thorin's description and his resemblance to Dwalin. The same nose and eyes, but kinder features. He was gentler in manner and smiled more. Balin's hair was white, and his long beard well groomed. 

"Good evening," she said.

"Yes," Balin turned and gazed over Hobbiton, "it is."

"Brother," Dwalin said from behind Anne. She stepped aside to allow Balin in. 

The brothers greeted each other by smacking their skulls together. Thorin had once explained this as a tradition mostly meant to get a reaction out of other races. Anne merely raised an eyebrow and briefly wondered who had come up with it initially.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Anne said as the brothers pulled apart.

They ignored her and moved toward the dining room discussing food.

"It's not that I don't like visitors," Anne explained as they dug into the food on her table. "I just like to know that they're coming. I don't mean to be blunt, but I have to speak my mind. I'm sorry."

The two dwarrow fell completely silent and turned to stare at Anne standing in the doorway. 

"Apology accepted," Balin said before turning back to the food and his brother.

Anne got the impression that they hadn't heard her or did not care in the least about what she said. Now she was getting a little frustrated. Anne could be a very patient person. With her family, she would have murdered them all many times over if she wasn't. But she had limits.

Dwarrow showing up unexpectedly was one thing. As was devouring her food.

But ignoring her.

That was something Anne could not stand.

Being ignored reminded her of the days when her family would ignore her arguments until she gave in and did as they wanted. She had allowed herself to be manipulated then. She did not allow herself to be manipulated anymore. She needed to put her foot down and get some answers.

Anne opened her mouth, not yet sure what she was going to say, but was spared having to say anything by another knock on the door.

"Brilliant," she muttered to herself as she went to get the door. "Probably more Dwarves. In fact, it's probably Thorin this time." Those last words made her stop dead mid stride. She was already reaching toward the door, but stared at the handle as if it were a snake waiting to bite her hand off. A slight tremor began to run through her body. Anne's breath became shallower. She knew that if she didn't do something she might fall and curl up in a whimpering ball on the floor soon. 

She yanked the door open.

It wasn't Thorin.

She exhaled slowly and took a closer look at the two young dwarrow on her doorstep. They both had minimal facial hair, and calm hairstyles from what Anne knew of Dwarrow. One blonde and the other brunette. 

"Fili,"

"And Kili,"

"At your service," they said in unison with a bow. As they straightened they both smiled broadly at her. Their smiles identical to Thorin's. His nephews. He had told her about them, and his sister. Their father had died, and Thorin considered himself their father. 

Anne was stunned into silence. If they were here...Thorin was surely coming also. 

They pushed past Anne and began removing their weapons and piling them in her arms. She stumbled a bit under the weight, but was fairly sure they were testing her so said nothing and dumped their weapons behind her. They were testing her, but not as Anne, their Uncle's former fiance. She had no doubt. They didn't know who she was. 

Did that mean that Thorin wouldn't acknowledge her? Why would he come here, to her home, with his closest friends and family? And why would he not tell them who she was? 

 


	8. More Dwarrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very difficult to write. I finally have a good idea of where this story is going, but it is going to be excruciating to get there. I have a new respect for Austen and all she was able to put her characters through. I'm so thankful to those reading my story, it is especially encouraging to receive comments and Kudos. I may have stopped writing if not for those, so thank you! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

As Balin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili rearranged Anne's furniture and completely ignored her presence, Anne felt herself reaching a breaking point. There were four Dwarrow in her house all closely connected to her only love; whom she had been manipulated into giving up, and had never quite gotten over. All four of them were acting as if they owned her house. 

Anne tried not to judge them. She really did.

But the longer they ignored her and basically trampled her, the harder it became. Anne was a Hobbit. Hobbits were peaceful and honorable. Anne was not. She had never been a proper Hobbit. 

She had tried. She had gone so far as to break off her engagement with the Dwarf she loved. And it had gotten her nowhere. She had not earned respect, and she had not earned her family's love. Instead, she had lost the one person who had ever loved her for her, and not because she could be manipulated to his own purposes. 

That had been the end of Anne trying to be proper and respectable. She had discovered a very strong temper since. Just because Anne wasn't trying to earn approval did not make it appropriate to lash out in anger. She firmly believed that. However, when she felt that people were trying to manipulate or trample her, Anne felt it perfectly appropriate to stand up to them. 

As she processed this and considered any possible course of action, there came yet another knock on her door.

Anne calmly turned and made her way to the door. She would be controlled, and she would find a way to be in control of the situation. She would not explode and make all the Dwarrow in her home think she was crazy.

With a little more force than necessary, Anne yanked open the door. She had to hop out of the way as a pile of Dwarves fell into her house. As the pile shifted and they all grunted and groaned at each other, Anne saw Gandalf standing behind them. She gave a very slow and very small smile, then said, "Gandalf." She would welcome them into her home.

 

 

And she would get some answers out of the Wizard.

 

The Dwarves managed to untangle themselves and Gandalf introduced them, but Anne did not bother trying to learn their names. She knew she could not possibly remember them all, and their names were the least important piece of information she wanted at this moment. 

"Do come in and eat," Anne invited with a smile. She led them into the dining room. Anne momentarily questioned whether there would be enough food left, but decided that they could fight each other over it if need be. 

As they gathered around her table Anne stood back to watch. They were all happy to see each other and her house was filled with more laughter than it had seen in her entire life. They joked, teased, dared and generally had fun being with each other. It helped that they were all drinking ale, but that was beside the point. 

Anne also noticed herself laughing along with them at points. It was difficult not to. They were messy, chaotic, and loud. And they loved each other. 

It had been a long time since Anne had observed such a large group of people who genuinely loved each other. It was beautiful. 

The Dwarrow finished eating and began to disperse, scoping out her house. One of the Dwarves approached Anne to ask what to do with his plate, this led into some ridiculously choreographed dance in which Dwarves were throwing her grandmother's dishes from every direction. Then Anne heard the distinct sound of metal scraping across metal and turned back to the dining room. Two more Dwarves were scraping the knives and forks together. 

Anne rolled her eyes. "Please don't do that. You'll blunt the knives." Sharpening knives was not Anne's idea of fun, and as much as she was trying to remain calm, Anne was not used to this level of noise and Chaos in her life; her stress levels were rising. Not to mention the thought in the back of her head that refused to go away: Thorin was coming. Anne had no doubt about it. 

As the Dwarrow broke into song and simultaneously washed her dishes, Anne pulled Gandalf into a slightly quieter corridor. 

"Gandalf, what are these Dwarrow doing in my house?"

"I told you, you're in need of an adventure." He smiled down at Anne, and looked like he was about to walk away.

"And I told you that I don't want an adventure." Gandalf turned back, but didn't seem inclined to say anything. "The last time that I let people ignore what I had to say until I gave in and did as they wished I lost the love of my life." Anne tried not to get emotional, but she did not succeed. The amount of stress this day had put her through all seemed to hit her as she said those last words, and her voice broke. Her eyes stung with tears and her throat began to close.

"My dear Anne," Gandalf knelt before her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I have no intention of manipulating you into something you do not wish to do. I merely wish you to hear of the Dwarves' quest before making a decision."

Anne nodded and took deep slow breaths to calm herself. Then she made eye contact with the Wizard. "Thorin is coming. Isn't he?"

Gandalf's eyes clouded and he nodded. 

"Alright." Anne could do this. She could face him, hear about the quest, and make a rational decision. If only she could get a nap and a cup of tea to brace herself before she had to face him. 

At the knock on the door, those hopes disappeared. 

The Dwarrow all appeared in doorways just off the corridor. They were all looking at Gandalf.

"He is here," the Wizard said ominously. He stood, but looked down at Anne. He did not move, merely waited.

A steel entered Anne's eyes. Her back straightened and she made her way past all the silent Dwarves to the door. 

Anne pulled it open. 

On the other side stood Thorin.

He was breathtaking. As much so as the first time she had met him. His hair had gained some silver streaks, and his beard was a little thicker. There were more lines in his face too. But it was Thorin. Unchanged. Immovable. Beautiful.

"Gandalf," he said, stepping forward and completely ignoring Anne. 

It stung. 

 

No.

 

It didn't sting.

 

It felt like her heart was being slowly crushed by a hand made of white hot fire.

He obviously did not care for her anymore. He was not angry. He was not happy. 

He simply didn't care.


	9. The First Meeting

Her eyes. 

 

That's all Thorin could see.

 

They were so much older; wiser. She had a determination in her gaze that had never been there before. 

 

Thorin was staring. He was openly staring and he needed to stop. Dwalin and Balin were the only members of the company who knew of Thorin's history with Anne. They all knew he had lived in the Shire for a time. Fili and Kili knew that he had fallen in love; they had never been able to sleep when he and Dis were talking about something they found interesting. However, the rest of the company was completely oblivious to Thorin's romance. 

He parted his lips slightly to introduce himself, or say something...anything.

"Gandalf." 

The name was out before he could process what he had done. Thorin turned to look at the Wizard just behind Anne and stepped inside. He nodded to his company and greeted his nephews. 

"Welcome, Thorin," Gandalf said. There was sadness in his eyes when they met Thorin's. Thorin had no doubt it was reflected back. 

Anne.

 

 

His Anne. 

 

 

But she wasn't his anymore.

 

She had made her choice. 

 

And his heart was still in so many pieces he couldn't look at her. 

 

 

"Shall we discuss our business?" Thorin asked, handing his cloak off to Kili. 

"Of course," Balin said, turning and leading the company to the dining room. They all seated themselves around the table with Thorin at the head and Gandalf to his left. 

Thorin knew that Anne must be standing behind him somewhere, but did not want to turn and look at her. He wasn't sure what he might do if he acknowledged her. Probably curl up in a ball and cry.

 

~

 

Anne closed the door as Thorin spoke to Gandalf. She couldn't turn around. In fact, she couldn't move at all. The only reason she was still upright was the grip she had on the door handle. Her vision was blurred and it seemed as if the entire world was going dark. Like little candles being snuffed out and a strong wind blowing her way. 

She felt more than heard the others leave. 

Once alone she sank to the floor. leaning on the door and taking deep breaths, Anne slowly came back to herself. 

 

It was over.

 

The first meeting. 

 

Things would get better. For now she needed to rejoin the others before they noticed her missing. She made her way to the dining room and hovered in the doorway. She tried to keep to the side so she wasn't behind Thorin, but also far enough back that she wasn't hovering in his peripheral. 

Anne tuned in to what was being said. 

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage," Gandalf said, glancing toward Anne. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done." 

"That's why we need a burglar," the small dwarf who had asked about his plate earlier said as if he was just coming to the realisation. The others all seemed to have come to the conclusion already, or been informed. Gandalf gave an encouraging nod toward the dwarf. 

"And a good one too," Anne blurted. Damn. Had she spoken? She had meant to be invisible. "An expert, I'd imagine." Brilliant! Not only had she reminded them of her presence, she had kept going, ensuring they would not ignore her comment and move on. 

"And are you?" One of the other Dwarves asked. Anne's eyes widened.

 

No.

 

Gandalf hadn't.

 

 

He had.

 

Gandalf had told them Anne was a burglar.

 

Why hadn't Thorin said anything? He knew she was not. It had been twelve years, but she hadn't changed that much.

 

Strike that. She had. She had changed more in the last twelve years than her entire life prior. 

 

But she was not a burglar.

 

~

 

Thorin wanted to bang his head on the table.

 

He knew that Anne was not a burglar. However much someone could change in twelve years, Anne would not have become a burglar.

 

He had only allowed Gandalf to bring them here because he had wanted to see her again. He had tried to convince himself that it was some other reason. Any other reason. But it was not. And now she was being put on the spot and about to lose the respect of his entire company before they had even gotten to know her. 


	10. The Contract

"I am not a burglar." Anne could not lie. She had never been able to lie, but especially not to him. He knew anyway. She would still consider joining the quest, but she would not lie. 

"I'm afraid I have to agree with miss Elliot," Balin spoke up. "She's hardly burglar material." 

Anne looked at Balin steadily and tilted her head to one side slightly. Why did he say that? Did he not want her to join them? It would be understandable, considering he knew who she was.

"Aye," Came Dwalin's gruff voice from the other side of the table. "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." Dwalin looked disgusted as he said it, and there were murmurs of agreement around the table.

Never mind that Anne _could_ fight. Thorin had taught her. She wouldn't claim to be a warrior. However, she knew how to use a sword and knives efficiently. 

Around the table disagreement broke out among the company. It seemed quite a few of them were opposed to Anne joining. She did, however, have a few champions. 

A low rumbling started up. Anne turned to see Gandalf standing slowly. 

"Enough!" He commanded. "If I say Anne Elliot is a burglar, then a burglar she is."

Anne raised her eyebrows at him in way that said, "that's not how the world works, dear."

Gandalf turned to Thorin, who looked extremely uncomfortable. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen miss Elliot." Gandalf then turned to look at the rest of the company to say, "There's a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she has a great deal more to offer than any of you know...including herself." Their eyes met on this and Anne rolled hers. 

Gandalf turned back to Thorin. There was silence in the room.

"You must trust me on this," Gandalf said gravely.

"Very well. We will do it your way," Thorin decided. He turned to Balin. "Give her a contract."

Balin stood and began to explain the contract. Anne didn't hear a word he said. 

 

Thorin had just agreed to let Anne go even though he had plenty of good reasons laid out in front of him. Not to mention the fact that he was the bloody King! He could say no and no one would have the right to question him. 

 

Anne stood like a statue. She stared at the contract.

 

Thorin yanked it from Balin's hand and slapped it against Anne's stomach. He probably hadn't realized how close she was standing. 

 

Anne stepped away, trying not to look like she was running from his touch. 

 

She totally was.

 

She opened the contract to give herself something to do. Her eyes scanned the page, but she couldn't see the words.

 

Thorin was here.

 

He was allowing her to join his quest.

 

And, however unintentional, he had just touched her for the first time in twelve years. 

 

She heard his voice and tuned in to what he was saying.

 

"-guarantee her safety."

"Understood," Gandalf replied immediately.

"Nor can I be responsible for her fate."

There was silence for a long moment, then Gandalf said, "Agreed." He sounded like the word had been torn from him. 

Anne couldn't breathe. 

 

Thorin was acting like he didn't want her, but allowing her to come. Which was it? Why? 

 

Her hands shook as she held the contract. 

 

"You alright lass?" Balin asked.

 

Anne nodded, straightened her spine, and turned. There was Thorin, standing and looking at her, his eyes hard. "Nope," Anne squeaked out. She felt a cold sweat spread over her and then the jarring feeling of slamming into the floor. 

 

It was dark.

 

She was fine.

 

She would have bruises.

 

But she was fine.

 

Weak.

 

 

That's what she was.

 

~

 

She had fainted.

 

Thorin's mouth dropped open. Maybe the Anne of twelve years ago would faint. Maybe. 

 

 

But this Anne?

 

The Anne with steel in her eyes?

 

The Anne who had welcomed thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard into her house unexpectedly?

 

Before he knew what was happening Thorin was on his knees at her side.

 

"Anne?" His throat felt terribly dry and his heart was squeezing.

 

That fall had been hard. She must be hurt. She might have hit her head.

"Anne? Are you alright?" His voice came out a raw whisper. He hoped his company couldn't hear. It didn't matter if they did. He cared. He always would. He gently ran his hand over her hair. It was as soft as ever. His other hand reached out and cupped her cheek. It fit in his hand as perfectly as it had twelve years ago.

"What?" Anne's eyes blinked open and came to focus on him. Her brow furrowed and Thorin shot to his feet, stepping aside. 

"Oin," He grunted. 

Oin came forward, as did Gandalf, to lift Anne. 

As they carried her away, Anne looked back at Thorin, her face written with confusion.

She would come to herself, and the open look would leave her face. She would be guarded. She would be stiff. She would not make eye contact with him.

Thorin felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Dwalin.

"I'm alright."

"You aren't," Dwalin said in low voice, doing his best to keep the conversation private. It wasn't difficult, Thorin realized. The entire company had been shouting since Anne had fallen. 

"But I will be."

Dwalin nodded and turned away. 

 

~

 

Anne gripped the mug of tea the Dwarf-Oin-had given her like her life depended on it.

Gandalf was pacing.

"I'll be alright."

"I had not realized the toll this would take on you." Gandalf stopped his pacing and knelt in front of Anne.

"And I thought I was handling it rather well," Anne said with a slightly hysterical chuckle.

Gandalf reached out and placed a hand on Anne's. "You are, my dear."

They were silent a moment. Each looked into the other's eyes, searching.

"Can you promise that I will come back?"

"No. And if you do, you will not be the same."

"That's what I thought." Anne set aside her cup of tea and grabbed the contract from from Gandalf. She marched back into the dining room. 

The Dwarves, who had begun to wander, followed. Anne set the contract on the table, spread it out, and reached back. Gandalf was there, with a quill and inkwell. 

Anne looked up. 

Around the room the Dwarves were gathered, their expressions all ranging from excited, to worried, to wary.

Gandalf on her left looked pleased. 

Last of all, Anne looked at Thorin. He was on her right. His eyes were guarded and his expression blank. Anne knew he was thinking something, probably quite a lot of things, but he didn't want her or anyone else to know.

So be it.

Anne signed her name with a flourish.

"Goodnight everyone."

With her head held high, Anne marched to her room. She closed her door gently. And burst into tears. She ran to her bed and buried her face in her pillow to muffle any sound. 

She would be strong.

It was at that moment that Anne realized she was still gripping the quill.

 

 


	11. Breakfast

Anne slowly became aware of a pain in her neck. She oriented her senses. She was lying down. The air was cool. Anne could hear low voices coming from somewhere.

Slowly she blinked her eyes open. Her vision was blurry and her eyelids felt gritty.

Rolling into a sitting position Anne hung her legs over the edge of her bed. She reached a hand up and massaged her neck. She had been lying with her head at a strange angle and her shoulder folded under her. As she thought about it, she noticed an ache in her shoulder as well. 

Anne opened her eyes again. The sky was gray outside, suggesting predawn. She was still in the dress she had worn the day before. It was probably permanently wrinkled at this point. 

There was no reason to stay in bed, and Anne felt as if she had had enough sleep, so she slid off the bed.

The floor was cold on Anne's bare feet as she walked to her vanity. In the top right drawer she kept stockings. Anne pulled out a pair and slid into them. Then she went to the small stand next to the vanity that held a pitcher and basin, and poured a bowlful of water. Anne was in the habit of refilling the water in the pitcher after using it, so that she would not have to remember at night. There was a cloth folded over the bar on the side of the stand. Anne dipped the cloth into the water and held it over her eyes. After a few seconds she felt the grit in her eyes begin to soften and wiped her eyes with the cloth. She dipped it into the water again and rubbed her face to remove the layer of oil. 

After washing her face, Anne felt refreshed. She sat at the bench in front of the vanity and began work on her hair. She had not thoroughly brushed her hair in two days and the tangles were atrocious. She considered cutting a few pieces of hair, but decided against it. 

As she worked on her hair she thought about the previous night. Had she really agreed to travel across the world with Thorin? This journey was going to be far more emotionally straining than anything else. It was a terrible idea. She should change her mind.

But she couldn't. 

Gandalf was right. Anne needed an adventure.

After getting her hair into a simple and neat bun at the base of her neck, Anne changed into a fresh dress. Of course, it would not do for travel, but they would not be able to leave the Shire for at least a day more. They would need to gather food supplies, probably procure ponies, and perhaps replace some equipment as well. As the company had arrived the night before, Anne had not noticed anyone carrying packs or other supplies. That did not mean they weren't stored somewhere else though. 

Anne took the stockings off her feet before exiting her room. The first rays of dawn were coloring the gray sky as she closed her door behind her.

Following the voices Anne found Gandalf, Thorin, and Balin sitting at her kitchen table. The fat dwarf with red hair was cooking. He had at least five dishes cooking simultaneously, a fact which raised him in Anne's estimation. Anne could manage that many, but found it difficult.

"Is there any way I can help you?" Anne asked. She felt ridiculous asking if she could help cook a meal in her own kitchen.

"No need, Lass," the dwarf responded with a gentle smile. "It's nearly ready."

With no other option, Anne made her way to the table to sit. Thorin was sitting on the far side with Balin next to him. Across from Thorin was Gandalf. Anne decided to sit on the end farthest from Thorin. 

The table fell silent the moment Anne sat. She folded her hands in her lap and squeezed until her knuckles were white. Just being in a room with Thorin was difficult. How would she manage to speak to him? If they were acting as if they had never met, Anne must act around him as she did the others. She would probably be holding conversations with the rest of the Dwarves at some point. 

Before Anne could work herself into a complete state of panic, the Dwarf cooking breakfast waddled over, balancing four plates. He set the first in front of Thorin, then Gandalf, Anne, and finally Balin. 

As the hostess and owner of the house, Anne should technically be served first. However, Thorin was a King, so it was perfectly proper to serve him first instead. Serving Gandalf before her though, that was harder to justify. Anne did not dwell on this because she was upset. Merely to get a better understanding of this Dwarf. She wanted to know them all well. 

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Thank you Bombour."

Anne looked at Gandalf and found him looking back at her. 

He had intentionally said the Dwarf's name, Anne realized, so that she could learn it. Anne gave the slightest nod of her head.

Bombur brought over his own plate and sat at the opposite end of the table from Anne.

The Dwarves all dug into their plates. Anne and Gandalf began eating more slowly. 

None of the dishes on her plate were familiar to Anne, but after just a few bites Anne could tell that Bombur was a wonderful cook.

"This is delicious, Bombur," Anne complimented.

The Dwarf blushed and ducked his head. "Thank you, Lass."

"Her name is Anne," Gandalf said with a chuckle.

"My apologies," Bombur rushed to say. "Miss Anne."

"Not to worry," Anne assured him. 

They all returned to their food.

The second Thorin's plate was empty Bombur jumped up to refill it. 

"You need to eat more," Bombur muttered as explanation. "You should get a wife to fatten you up."

Thorin chuckled and said, "Well Bombur, you'll be pleased to know I have every intention of finding myself a wife soon."

As Thorin spoke a few more of the Dwarves entered the kitchen, filled their plates, and sat around the table. 

"Indeed," Bombur said, lighting up. "I am delighted to hear it. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"No. I am quite ready to make a foolish match with any woman who smiles. A compliment to me and my company and I am lost."

The Dwarves laughed heartily at this.

"After all," Thorin cut into their laughter with a slight edge to his voice, "what right has a humble blacksmith to expect any better?"

There was silence at this.

Anne became entirely still. 

"But if I am to speak in earnest," he continued, "what I desire above all in a wife, is firmness of character. A woman who knows her own mind. I cannot abide timidity or feebleness of purpose. A weak spirit which is open to persuasion first one way, and then another, can never be relied upon."

Each word was like a dagger to Anne's heart. He was speaking directly to her. Sharing all the bitterness that had built up over the last twelve years. Saying all the angry, hurtful things he had not said before leaving twelve years before. 

At the end of his speech, Thorin looked up and made eye contact with Anne. He kept his features entirely blank, but his eyes spoke of pain.

Anne had no idea how to react to this. As she deliberated, the Dwarves around the table began to discuss other things. The topic of finding supplies came up and Balin directed a few questions to Anne. She managed to answer them without stuttering too much. 

When all the Dwarves had eaten, Thorin called for everyone's attention. "We will spend the day in Hobbiton gathering what supplies we can. Tomorrow we will travel to Bree to get whatever else we need and spend our last night indoors until we reach Rivendell." This last word he spoke with more bitterness than he directed toward Anne.

"Tonight," Anne spoke up, "we may dine with my sister's family. You have depleted what was in my pantry, and there is not reason to replenish since we will be leaving tomorrow."

"Do we have an invitation to dine with them?" Thorin asked. Anne wasn't sure if she would be able to speak. They had just exchanged sentences. They were having a conversatin that didn't include pretending to talk to others while saying extremely pointed things.

"I will go and procure one as soon as I have given you directions to all the pertinent shops and stalls in the market."

"I'm sure we can find our way around," Dwalin cut in.

"Perhaps, but you would not get the best deal, nor the best quality."

"You doubt our ability to find quality goods?" Dwalin asked. He clearly took offense at the aspersion.

"I do not," Anne clarified. "However, not all the best goods can be found without a personal connection. Many Hobbits do not have signs that tell you they sell anything. You must simply know."

Gandalf stood. "Why don't you explain it all to me, Anne. I will be able to remember the directions best, as I am familiar with the area."

Anne followed Gandalf to the study and quickly wrote down a few names, giving Gandalf directions. She then grabbed a shawl hanging by the door and set off to see Mary.


	12. Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sad to say that this may be my last update for awhile. I am traveling over the summer and am not sure how much time I will have to write, or if I'll have internet access. I promise that I intend to finish this story and will pick it up again as soon as I am able. Thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! It is extremely encouraging!

Anne breathed deeply as she walked. She hoped that getting enough fresh air would calm her nerves.

They had spoken.

They had sat at the same table, eaten, and held a conversation.

To be sure, he had said very pointed and bitter things before that, but when he spoke directly to her his voice held no malice. It didn’t exactly hold friendship either, but that was not something to be expected. Ever.

They would never be friends again.

Anne sped her steps as her sister’s cottage came into view.

As she reached the gate, Anne saw Mary’s face in the window. As soon as she realized Anne was looking at her, Mary withdrew from the window.

The response to her knock on the door was a faint moan and then, “come in whoever you are.” Anne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and opened the door. Inside the home everything was just slightly messy. Blankets folded, but with wrinkles. Trinkets neat, but not dusted. The floor, barely noticeably, needed to be swept. 

Anne moved past the entryway and into the small parlor. Mary was lying on the couch with her eyes closed and wrapped in a blanket. 

"I am so ill," she said weakly. "I can hardly speak."

There was a fire burning merrily in spite of how warm the day was turning out to be. 

"In fact, I do not think I was ever so ill in my life as I have been this morning." Anne took this an invitation to sit, and did so. "I am very unfit to be left alone I am sure."

Anne was always made uncomfortable by her sister's self-pity. She had been a sickly child, but as an adult, Anne was sure much of it was imagined. Mary might truly believe herself to be ill, but she did not fool others. It was embarrassing. However, she was Anne's little sister, she had not had a mother for most of her life, and Anne loved her dearly so she showed Mary as much patience as she could.

"Is Charles not here?" Anne asked, unsure what else to say and hoping to distract Mary.

"Charles would go out working, even though I told him I was ill," Mary pouted. "And I have not seen a soul this whole. long. morning."

Anne remained silent, allowing Mary to say whatever she felt needed to be said.

"Not one of the Musgroves has seen fit to come and see me, even though Charles told them I was ill." At this point Mary sat up. "It did not suit them I suppose."

"Well," Anne said, finally interjecting, "you will see them soon, I am sure. 'Tis still early. Or perhaps, if you feel well enough to attempt the short walk to the great house, we could call upon them." The Musgroves lived in cottages above ground. They were, after all, from Bree originally where Hobbits lived in houses alongside the humans.

"We ought to wait," Mary nearly wailed in a weak voice. "Th-they ought to know what is due to you as my sister." 

"I assure you, I have not the smallest objection on that account." Anne hated being deferred to outside her own home. She only wanted the respect she earned, not whatever due to her because of her sister or her grandfather.  

"Perhaps a little air would do me good," Mary said, sitting a little more relaxed. "But I really must eat something first. I'm quite starved." As she said this, she began munching on what looked like stale crackers from an old tea tray on her end table. 

Anne did not comment on the food choice, merely waited until Mary was ready. 

They soon set off for the great house. It really was not so great. The house had fewer rooms and less space than most Hobbit holes, but was larger than any other above ground house in the area. 

Upon arrival, Anne was surrounded in a flurry of gossip and ribbons and stories. The Musgroves liked Anne, but they liked a new ear even more. 

After they had depleted the topics they were comfortable with, they allowed Anne a chance to speak.

"I have visitors," Anne informed Mrs. Musgrove and her daughters. 

This set them into another frenzy of questions and speculations. Again, when they calmed down enough for Anne to speak she continued.

"They are twelve Dwarves and Gandalf. They are setting out on a quest, and I am joining them. We leave tomorrow." Anne managed to get all of this out before the Musgroves drowned her out with their giggles. Louisa and Henrietta were unashamed flirts, and easily got bored. The idea of twelve new prospects got them very excited.

"You must bring them all to dinner tonight," Mrs. Musgrove shouted above her daughters giggles. 

"I must confess," Anne said, attempting not to shout but still be heard, "I had hoped you would ask. Thank you, I shall."

"Did you say you are joining their quest?" Louisa burst out.

"Yes."

"What kind of quest?" Henrietta asked.

"One I cannot explain." Anne realized at that moment that she actually did not have a lot of particulars about the quest. She really should have read the contract.

"Can we go?"

"I don't think-"

"That's a wonderful idea!" Mrs. Musgrove had latched on, and she was not one to let go of such a thing until it was accomplished. "You certainly cannot travel with thirteen males by yourself, Anne. The girls ought to go along."

"Well," Anne said slowly, "The final decision is not in my hands, but it might be possible for them to come along. At least to Rivendell."

"Rivendell!" The girls squealed together.

"I ought to come along too," Mary spoke up. "I am far more appropriate as your sister and a married woman."

"It is a very long journey, Mary." 

"Why is everyone always assuming that I am not up to a long journey?"

Anne refrained from pointing out that, one, Mary was always going on about how ill she was and, two, people never assumed anything about long journeys in the Shire except that they must be very inconvenient. 

"It is all up to Thorin," Anne said to the entire group. "You will meet him tonight, and may ask then."

Anne was starting to dread this journey. Trying to process her interactions with and feelings about Thorin was enough. Adding two young flirts would take up a great deal of her time and energy to keep them out of trouble. Add Mary into the equation, and Anne was already getting a very bad headache. 

 

 

 


	13. A Dinner Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I got more inspiration while procrastinating studying for my finals so...you're welcome. Here's another update. Again, possibly the last for awhile.

That evening Anne dressed in a satin dress that was flattering to her curves and a lovely sea green. The green made her eyes look nearly purple and complimented her complexion. Her hair was in tight ringlets framing her face and she pulled the rest back into a tight bun. Anne tried not to be vain, but she still liked to look nice and wear things that complimented her.

And maybe, deep down, she wanted to catch Thorin's eye. Wanted him to think of her as beautiful again.

When she arrived at the great house the Dwarves and Gandalf had already arrived. There were candles seemingly everywhere reflecting light off of jewelry and armor and clothing. Everything sparkled.

The Dwarves were seated about the main room in light hearted conversations. Fili and Kili seemed to be having an insult contest, which some of the others were taking bets on. Mr. Musgrove and Charles were deep in conversation with Balin and Thorin about about farming practices. Henrietta and Louisa were too excited to keep still and kept darting from group to group in a fit of giggles, hanging on each other’s arms. They appeared very drunk even though no alcohol was present, and Anne knew them well enough to know they were just giddy. Mary sat in a corner looking very put out.

Anne made her way to her sister’s side and sank down next to her.

“Henrietta and Louisa think that because they are young and unmarried they get to have all the fun. They have banished me.”

“Banished you?” Anne asked, a little incredulous, but trying to keep it out of her voice.

“Yes!” Mary was becoming agitated. She kept adjusting her shawl and shifting in her seat. “Perhaps not with their words, but certainly with their looks. For they know I am far more clever than either of them and would certainly overshadow them in conversation.”

“I am sure they would not be offended, and even so, this gives you and I the opportunity to enjoy a moment together.” Anne smiled at her little sister and reached over to grab her hands where they were tightly clasped in her lap.

Mary returned her smile, although a little reluctantly.

Not long after that, a servant appeared to announce dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove began dictating to the party until Charles had Mary and Anne on his arms, Thorin had Louisa, and Fili and Kili had Henrietta between them. The rest of the Dwarves followed after in order of family groups-not by Mrs. Musgroves orders, but naturally.

Dinner was mostly uneventful. The Musgroves laughed and questioned and did not leave much room for anyone else to speak. Mary tried to put herself in the center of attention as well, but was not nearly as successful as Henrietta and Louisa.

After Dinner everyone returned to the main room. Anne was begged to play the pianoforte, which she obliged. If she did not play she would pass the evening brooding in the corner with Mary.

After just one piece, Louisa suggested dancing. Anne began a tune that she remembered Thorin had been familiar with, so that the Dwarves could more easily join in. They did not dance in way at all similar to the Hobbits, but everyone was delighted by absurdity of their dancing styles mixed together and no one attempted to teach the other how to dance.

Across the room Thorin's dark eyes met Anne's. There was pain in his look. Pain and also longing.

_"Trust me," Thorin assured Anne, holding her hands delicately in his and leading her to the dance floor. They were at the wedding of one of her cousins and a tune had started that Thorin recognized. He had immediately informed Anne that he was going to teach her to dance. She had replied that she already knew how to dance, to which he said, "not like this."_

_Once in the center of the group of dancing Hobbits, Thorin began doing a sort of jig step. He demonstrated and then waited for Anne to try it. She did to some degree of success, laughing at how silly she must look. Thorin demonstrated a few more, and Anne tried them out. Then he put them together and Anne tried to keep up. After she could perform the steps more smoothly he started swinging her about the dance floor. By this time all the Hobbits had stopped dancing and were gathered around to watch._

_Anne was breathless. Thorin was switching back and forth, but always keeping a hand around her waist. In spite of how much focus Anne was having to give the steps, Thorin was able to keep his eyes on her the entire time. He had a small smile playing across his lips and his eyes shone with joy. She was glad she had decided to let him teach her. He loved to show her his culture and traditions, because he loved his people very much. Anne thought that she must already love them too, simply because of how much Thorin loved them._

They all continued dancing and laughing for some time. Anne tried to play the most difficult tunes she knew so that she would have to use all her focus on playing and could not dwell on any more memories. Finally, Anne’s hands grew tired and her repertoire grew thin.

“I’m afraid I cannot play anymore,” Anne announced. Henrietta and Louisa moaned, but told Anne it was for the best as they were growing tired.

The room was set to rights again, and everyone sat down. Thorin called for attention and silence came quickly.

“It has come to my attention that there are some matters to discuss. The miss Musgrove’s would like to travel to Rivendell under the protection of our Company, and Mrs. Charles Musgrove would also like to come along for propriety’s sake. I see no reason to refuse them, as the first part of our journey should be easy. However, I would ask that Mr. Charles come as well. This will allow my company to go about their own duties without having to worry too much about looking after the Musgrove women.”

“Of course,” Charles replied. His eyes began to sparkle. The Musgroves were of Tookish descent and had adventure in their blood.

“Very well,” Thorin agreed. “My company and I will journey to Bree tomorrow and stay there a day longer than first planned. If you meet us there the day after tomorrow we can finalize our plans and set off morning after.”

Henrietta and Louisa, unable to contain their excitement, jumped up and danced about the room squealing and giggling.

Anne felt a great weight settle over her.

Henrietta, Louisa, Mary, and Charles to look after. For even Charles would need her guidance. Anne had not traveled herself, but she had far more knowledge than even Charles. She would also have to mediate between Mary and Charles, who were always bickering. And of course, Mary would expect deferential treatment. She always thought she deserved to be treated like royalty because she was the granddaughter of the Thain. This did not actually afford her any status, especially not when in the company of actual royalty.

Anne felt a sense of overwhelming dread as she walked home that night. Ahead of her were thirteen raucous, slightly drunk Dwarves. Well, twelve; Thorin could hardly be described as raucous. Really ten, because Dwalin and Balin were also composed.

She felt her breath come in gasps, as if breathing through a tiny hole. Her heart raced painfully in her chest. It was too much. It was all too much.

Thorin, the memories, the quest, Mary and the Musgroves.

Each thing piling on top of the other.

Each difficult to bear on its own.

But together?

Anne was sure she would be crushed under the weight of it all.

 

She would lose her composure.

 

Lash out.

 

Weep openly.

 

Something was going to happen.

She knew she could not remain stiff and unfeeling.

Because she felt it all.

 

 

Oh, how she felt it.


	14. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!! Here's a new chapter, finally. I hope you enjoy it and leave a comment to let me know what you think!

Once most of the company had passed out in random places throughout Anne's home, she went in search of Balin.

She found him with Thorin in her study. Anne paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt or eavesdrop.

Thorin was saying, "It is sure to be an inconvenience. However, I did not think I could refuse. Perhaps An-our burglar will be convinced to stay in Rivendell with them."

The two were seated facing away from the door. They were next to the fireplace, but had not stirred the coals, leaving the room quite dim without another light source.

"Your Anne doesn't seem like the type to simply give up in that way, Thorin." Balin observed.

"She is unprepared for a journey like this. Even the road to Rivendell will stretch her to her limits or beyond."

"I think the other women who will be among us will have a much more difficult time." This comment caused Thorin to snort.

Anne decided not to wait any longer, so she knocked on the door frame.

Balin immediately stood and gave a little bow while he scolded her for knocking in her own house. Thorin seemed to completely ignore her presence and stared into the coals, his expression shadowed. Once, she might have been able to read that reaction. Not anymore.

"I was wondering, master Balin, if you could advise me in what to pack. I think I have a general idea (trousers, a coat, etcetera) but I would appreciate your assistance."

"Why of course!" Balin seemed genuinely surprised and delighted at her request. "Why don't you lead me to your wardrobe so that I may get an idea of what you have to work with?"

Anne led Balin through the smial to her bedroom and entered, leaving the door wide open. She moved to her wardrobe and opened it. Only dresses and nightgowns were in view, everything inappropriate was tucked away in drawers. Immediately, Balin realized that only two of Anne's dresses could be made to work. A sturdy, maroon, overdress for winter made of wool, and a plain brown dress she used for dirty gardening days. 

"Do you have a coat?" Balin asked.

"Only this overdress," Anne said, biting her lip. She supposed that might cause a problem. 

"This dress could be modified to work." Balin muttered a few other things, deep in thought. In the end, he thought Anne should adjust the hem so that the front was above the knees, but it was fine to leave the back ankle length, and he would ask Fili and Kili about fur. Thorin's nephews had an abundance of fur according to Balin. 

Anne ended up finding her father's old clothes, tucked in a dusty closet in an unused part of the smial. Balin recommended that she adjust two shirts and pairs of trousers to fit herself; a set for warm weather, and another for cold. He also suggested a jumper and scarf or hood. 

"Now, do you have a pack?"

"I don't think I have anything sufficient," Anne informed him. 

"Well, then do you have any canvas material?" Anne had a tent that her mother had used to set up in the garden for small parties with her friends. It was pink, not ideal, but it would work. Balin gave her some ideas for the design, and told her to find a couple of blankets as well.

Anne wanted to get to work immediately, so she holed up in her room with the clothes and canvas and set to work. 

By dawn she had tried on all the clothes and determined where to make adjustments, and had her pack mostly sewn together. Anne had decided to line the pack with material to make it stronger, and had used her black mourning dress. She had made a basic shape that was about the size of her back, added pockets inside and out, and a flap to cover the top with buckled straps to hold it closed. She was proud of her work, even if the bag was pink. 

She stuffed a wool blanket and an old, stained quilt in the bottom. On top, she rolled each item of clothing she was planning to take. She added the necessary sewing supplies and closed the bag. Anne pulled the pack on and slipped into the hallway. She went to her mother's room. 

When Anne entered the room, she felt emotions of fear, pain, and anger that threatened to choke her every time she came near, but pushed them aside. Today she had not time for emotions. She went to her trunk, pulled out the small sword in it (really a long knife) and shoved it in her pack. She also grabbed the letters from Thorin, although she knew they couldn't do any good, and would probably cause her trouble. 

Anne left her pack in the hallway by her door and went to find the Dwarves. They were all in her kitchen, gobbling up Bombur's breakfast.

"Yet again, my guests have had to cook for themselves. I apologize for how remiss I continue to be in my hostessing duties." Bombur just laughed merrily at her.

"Not to worry, Anne," Gandalf assured between bites. "You could not be expected to cook for us during our entire stay when you were not expecting us."

Anne shrugged and sat down. Bombur was a good cook, so she wasn't going to complain about eating his food. She piled her plate up as high as any of the Dwarves. She had secretly been enjoying how amazed they all were by how much she could eat.

The conversation flowed around her during breakfast, but as the Dwarves began to finish and leave the table, Oin scooted closer to Anne. "Gandalf has told me that you are a healer. That is my profession as well. I was wondering if you had a collection of herbs that I could look through? I would much rather use those cultivated by another healer than buy lesser quality herbs in the market."

"Of course," Anne was surprised by the request, but quick to reply. It was only practical to use her herbs. They would be useless by the time she returned anyway. "I don't have as many fresh herbs at this time of year, but I grow the more important ones inside during to winter; so I have a small supply."

"I'm sure they will be wonderful, Lass." Oin smiled at Anne like she had just offered him the world.

"As soon as I've finished my breakfast we can go and look at them." 

 

 

Anne led Oin through the smial to a room by the back door. This room was filled with sunlight for the majority of the day, so Anne had turned it into a greenhouse. She showed Oin the herbs she had fresh and her dried herbs from the year before. In the end they decided to split the herbs. Oin would carry the ones that would be used the most, and Anne would carry the less used and those Oin was unfamiliar with. 

 

Anne saw the company off, then set off to the Musgroves. She would have a lot of work that day getting them all prepared for the journey. 

 

 

 


	15. Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the sort of person who has to think through all the little details that absolutely don't affect the plot. You're welcome. At least there's a little fluff to make it go down easier for those of my readers who aren't as interested in this as I am.

Anne paused in her sewing, letting her stiff and bruised fingers take a break. She had wanted to get all of her sewing accomplished today. The Musgroves could sew, but would not know what was necessary for this journey; Anne was anticipating having to sew theirs and Mary's clothes and packs. She also wanted to design their packs with extra padding, knowing they would all expect some type of pillow. 

It was already late afternoon. Charles and Mr. Musgrove had made arrangements for one of the neighbor boys to ride along in the wagon the next day in order to drive it home from Bree. There was also lunch for the next day to prepare, and Anne was trying to figure out how to carry extra (and unnecesary) food supplies so that the Musgrove women could have jams or dried fruit or a nice tea now and again. Of course, one must consider that all four women would bleed at least once on the journey of more than a month. Anne wanted to have something to offer each of them when the time came, to ease the reality that they must not pause their journey even for a day. 

Charles was Anne's solution. He was sturdy enough; and, only going to Rivendell, would not need as many supplies as herself and the Dwarves. She would make his pack large enough to carry most of the extras she was planning to take along. 

All of these decisions were based off of instinct. The farthest Anne had ever actually traveled was the borders of the Shire. She and Thorin had discussed traveling to Ered Luin together but...

Anne leaned her head back to stretch her neck and closed her eyes.

 

Thorin.

 

 

 

_Shivers danced across Anne's arms when she heard Thorin's firm steps approaching. She was in the back of the Great Smial by the back door. There was a small room with a mirror, and she was checking her appearance when Thorin had arrived to the front door. She pulled her hands away from her hair and busied herself straightening the frame of the mirror._

_"Anne, are you ready," Thorin called from around the corner. Anne turned toward his voice._

_As Thorin stepped into the room he looked up and paused. Anne smiled to herself, delighted that the sight of her elicited such a reaction. His eyes looked her over in admiration._

_"I am ready," she responded, picking up the basket at her feet. It was full of all kinds of delicious food, plates, silverware, and a large quilt._

_Thorin reached for the basket, and placed her hand on his arm. "Then let's be off."_

_As they walked the lane away from the Smial and toward the forest by the stream, Thorin and Anne were quiet. Anne was, as always, amazed that someone so beautiful and important as Thorin wanted to spend his time with her. She tightened her hand on his arm somewhat possessively. Why shouldn't he want Anne? She was the granddaughter of the Thain, as close to royalty as Hobbits had. And she was beautiful in her own way. Her dark hair naturally curled to frame her face, her eyes were large and dark, her frame was delicate, but she was round enough to be considered well proportioned. She was not breathtaking the way Thorin was with his massive, muscled frame, piercing eyes, and deep voice, but she was beautiful enough._

_"Are you alright?" Thorin turned those gorgeous orbs of ice and fire toward Anne in question._

_Anne debated how much to tell Thorin, she decided to be open. "There are people, girls my age, who wonder..." she paused, suddenly aware of sweat on her palms,"why you choose to spend your time with...me," she finished quietly looking down at her feet._

_"Anne," Thorin said just as quietly. He had stopped walking and turned halfway to face her. "You are beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and you are worth more to me than all the gems in the world."  He gently tipped Anne's chin up, making her heart skip a beat, and continued,"No matter what people say, always trust this, I want no one except you by my side. You, Anne, are my world."_

_Anne blushed deeply and looked away. "I did not mean...you shouldn't...Thorin," here Anne forced herself to look back at him, "I know. And I...I love you."_

_Thorin's eyes widened slightly, and darkened. The hand that he had used to lift her chin had come to rest on her shoulder. He now used it to brush her hair away from her face. Then her bent his head and placed a kiss on her cheek, then her lips._

_Anne's breath caught. Her eyes closed, and she leaned up into his kiss. Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. She needed to do something, so she slid her arms around his neck._

_Thorin pulled back and placed his forehead against hers._

 

_He was smiling like an idiot._

 

_So was Anne._

 

_"I love you too," he whispered._

 

 "Anne!" Opening her eyes with a gasp, Anne saw Louisa standing before her holding up a dress. "Don't you think this cream compliments me well?"

Anne forced herself to focus back on the present. She shouldn't be reminiscing about such things anyway. Those times were past and would never be again. "It's lovely Louisa, and I'm sure it will do well in Rivendell, but not for the journey. You must find sturdier fabrics for us to work with."

"Oh, Anne," Louisa patted her hand. "I know you do not think of such things, but I want to look my best for the entire journey. Surely this will do."

Anne took great offense at the implication that she did not care how she looked. She also rolled her eyes at how stubborn Louisa was being. "You may take as many nice things as you want, Louisa, but they will add unnecessary weight to your pack. You must dress practically for the journey. We will be hiking through all kinds of weather and terrain, not to mention sleeping on the ground, and bathing very little. You won't want to wear that dress when you are caked in mud and sweat, and are exhausted from walking endlessly." Of course, Anne did not know any of this from experience. Some she had picked up from Thorin all those years ago, and some she had learned from Balin merely the night before. 

With a groan, Louisa turned and trudged away. She had been bringing dress after dress to Anne all morning, each one with more embellishment and frills than the last. They were lovely dresses, but completely wrong for this type of journey. 

Anne had to go through very similar conversations all day with Henrietta, Mary, and even Charles who wanted to take four pipes and a supply of pipeweed to last him a year. She had always known that she was far more practical than the others, but today it felt that Anne was the only one who had any sense in her family.  

 


	16. All Those Years Ago

Thorin was well ahead of the company. In fact, he had outdistanced them to the point that he would have to shout to be heard by them. It was not a reflection on them or their walking skills. It was entirely a reflection of the inner turmoil Thorin was dealing with. 

He had so many emotions and memories swirling through his mind. 

When Anne had arrived at the Musgrove's home last night, his breath had caught in his throat. He had been unable to stop looking at her all night. The green of her dress complimented her complexion and her eyes perfectly. The cut of the dress, too, was perfect; making her look delicate and curvaceous.

Her smile had made a few appearances that felt like daggers to his heart. She no longer smiled just for him.  

But what was more difficult than all of that, was the song she had played. It had only taken a couple of notes for Thorin to be transported back to that day, all those years ago, when he taught her to dance. 

Thorin had stared at Anne so hard it was a wonder she hadn't been physically knocked over. She had met his gaze, and for a moment, there was a little joy in her eyes at the memory. 

 

Then they had both returned to the present.

 

But Thorin could not stop the memories anymore. 

 

_Anne laughed, and it came from deep within her, shaking her whole frame. She was flushed, her hair was flying about wildly, and she was smiling so widely it must hurt. She was the most beautiful creature Thorin had ever seen. Every second he spent with her, that seemed more true._

_They were picnicking in the meadow they loved._

_Today was a very special day. The food had been delicious, the flowers were blooming wildly, and Anne had told him she loved him._

_She loved him!_

_His heart was bursting with the knowledge._

_Thorin wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let go. She was so sweet, so wonderful, and so his._

 

_Anne was his._

 

 

_The knowledge that she loved him took so much weight off his shoulders. He was so nervous sometimes. That she would decide to court a proper hobbit instead of him. So scared that she would realize how uncultured he was. So worried that she would see how hard life would be with him and change her mind._

_But Anne loved him. And Thorin loved her._

_Anne had quieted during Thorin's musings. She was smiling contentedly at him. Leaning on one elbow, picking blades of grass absently, and smiling at Thorin._

_With a little pull on his heart, Thorin smiled back. Then he couldn't hold himself back anymore. Thorin reached and pulled Anne to him by the hand. He sat up and put his calloused hands on either side of her face, then he leaned down and kissed her._

_Her face tilted up, and Anne ran her hands up Thorin's arms slowly._

 

 

 

 

"You'll get all the way to the Lonely Mountain by nightfall at that pace," Dwalin grunted from beside Thorin. 

Thorin slowed and looked over at his friend. It was a good thing Dwalin had interrupted him, he might of dwelt on memories best left unremembered. 

"I had to jog to catch up to you. It isn't safe, even in the Shire, for you to be so far away. There are wargs about these days."

As Dwalin continued to lecture him on safety, Thorin grounded himself. Whether Dwalin knew what Thorin was thinking about, or really was just worried about safety Thorin would never know for sure. But it would not surprise him if Dwalin was thinking of both. Dwalin read Thorin like an open book, and Thorin could hardly read Dwalin at all.

That's why Thorin had Dwalin and Balin. Not only were they his close friends, both could read people far better than Thorin could. They had kept him out of a lot of trouble. 

"Dwalin," Thorin interrupted the rant Dwalin was in the middle of and waited for his friend to look at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Dwalin grunted. Then he continued his safety rant from where he'd left off. 


End file.
